


November Wind

by PatPrecieux



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Caring Sherlock, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 01:41:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8646946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PatPrecieux/pseuds/PatPrecieux
Summary: A cold wind and a weary soul.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChrisCalledMeSweetie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChrisCalledMeSweetie/gifts), [who made me laugh and be brave enough to try](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=who+made+me+laugh+and+be+brave+enough+to+try).



> My first attempt at serious writing inspired by a cold, cloudy, windy day; and the encouragement of ChrisCalledMeSweetie.

" Are we finished here ?", Sherlock bellowed.

Lestrade, who had been standing almost shoulder to shoulder with the other man, jumped back as if shot. " Well I'd say that's up to you, since in your own words, no one else here matters."

" Then I would say we are," Sherlock huffed. " I fail to see why my presence here was necessary at all."

" Because YOU said it was ! " The exasperated copper shook his head slowly and growled , " And I'll thank you to lower your voice. If I'm going to lose my hearing, I want to do it on my own."

Sherlock took great pains to look affronted as he threw on his scarf and Belstaff. " With your advancing age, I thought I was simply being considerate."

Greg flushed, "Oi! When you're here at the Yard, you might at least PRETEND to respect me you git !"

A slight smile curling on only one side of his mouth, Sherlock lowered his voice to a whisper. " Apologies Inspector. "

" What was that ? " 

" Ah, you see," the younger man shouted, " I was correct." 

Chest heaving, Lestrade spoke through clenched teeth. " Get out now before there's a fresh homicide and YOU won't be alive to investigate it ! "

Finally deigning to speak normally, Sherlock dipped his head and sniffed. " A dubious pleasure as always Garland."

He was in the hall before Lestrade's heated response could reach his ears. The Detective was surprised to hear himself chuckle under his breath. Something as pedestrian as teasing Lestrade would have been unthinkable some months ago; but that was before - before John.

The lift doors opened and he stepped in actually grinning. " Wait until I tell John I attempted humor today for research of course. "  
As the lift decended, Sherlock found himself suddenly wondering where John could be. They had agreed, John would come up to Lestrade's office after work. The phone showed no message so perhaps .... 

As he was about to send a text, Sherlock saw the Doctor leaning against a wall - outside. Even from inside, he could see that John was shivering, hard.

Making his way outside, and keeping in mind John's aversion to being nagged, Sherlock tried for lighthearted.

" Good evening John, taking the air are we ?"

John barely looked up, " It's taking me like as not," he stuttered through chattering teeth.

Now feeling concerned, but wishing to avoid sounding superior, Sherlock ventured " With your medical expertise, if you wish to contract pneumonia, would it not be simpler and less time consuming to merely infect yourself at the Clinic ?"

John looked at him with vacant eyes. "What makes you think I want to get sick?" 

" Aside from my brilliant deductive skills, the evidence points in that direction."

" Evidence ?"

" Yes. For one, you are standing outside in a howling wind whilst being woefully underdressed . Second, the blue tinge of your lips indicates you have been here quite some time ."

" Remarkable," John sighed with a flat tone.

Sherlock had now moved from concerned to alarmed. " John I know you are loathe to take orders from me, but I must insist we take you out of this wind."

The older man seemed to be looking beyond the horizon. " No Sherlock, that's the entire point."

" What is ?", he spat fighting back his sudden annoyance.

" The wind, I need to be in the wind, this wind."

" John, there is nothing in the least bit extraordinary about this wind."

" But there is Lock. It's a November wind."

Now, despite his resolve, Sherlock felt a strop coming on. He bit the inside of his cheek before speaking. Whatever this was, it was obviously troubling John, and Sherlock loved John too much to let his ridiculous mouth get in the way.

" True John, a cold, wailing November wind ; but just like any other wind. Nothing more, nothing less."

The Doctor seemed more agitated at once. " You don't understand Sherlock. You don't !!"

" No, but I want to John. Explain so I can understand."

At this point, Sherlock was sure John couldn't feel his fingers and toes; and his ears were bright red but turning white at the tips.

Hoping his instincts were right, he stepped forward and wrapped the Belstaff and his arms around the shorter man. As expected, John began to struggle.

" It's alright John, we don't have to leave. I find myself becoming chilled and thought we might share body heat."

At once, John stilled. Despite his distress, the Doctor's fierce protectiveness of Sherlock was stronger. He returned the embrace.

" Better Lock ?"

" Much. Now, tell me about your November wind. If you deem it special, then so shall I."

John sighed as if it was a great relief to share his thoughts. " Well you know it's said an ill wind blows no good ?"

" Of course, and this is an ill wind ?"

" No, no just the opposite. You said it yourself."

" I did ?", the younger man stammered, for once, seeming thoroughly confused.

For a brief moment, a small smile crossed John's face. " How typical. Remarkable even when you don't realize it."

Sherlock smiled back, " Go on then, tell me just how remarkable I am John."

" You said the wind wailed, and it does. They say something can be windswept, the gale taking everything with it. What remains is fresh, clean, new."

" And your November wind does this ?"

" I think the wailing is the lost souls from all Hallow's Eve. They follow the November wind because it carries the burdens of the world on it's gusts to December. December, when the promise of a gift of love so great it has lasted through the centuries was made.The chance to let this wind carry away all our mistakes, our hurts, our betrayals. A chance for all of us.... for ME to be better, more worthy, more deserving .... of YOU."

At that moment, Sherlock understood. "This wind is meant to cleanse you then?" 

" From all the hurt I've caused, all the pain I've made you feel, all the many times I denied loving you because of my pride and fear and cowardice."

Sherlock felt a surge of anger. " We are all prideful creatures, it is the nature of humanity. But I will allow no man, least of all you to call yourself a coward. As for the rest, I am no less in need of cleansing. I am far from blameless John."

They stood clinging to each other in the wind, and if both had tears in their eyes it was from the cold, wasn't it ?

Eventually, Sherlock leaned down to capture John's lips in a kiss and to his surprise, the Doctor began to laugh. " What ?"

" Don't suppose as a kiddie anyone ever warned you about licking a frozen metal pole ?"

The seemingly ridiculous change in conversation caught Sherlock off guard. " Licking a frozen....what would possess me to want to lick any sort of...."

John reached his stiff fingers up and into Sherlock's curls, caressing gently. " Never mind, luv. The point is, I think if we're both feeling renewed, AND if snogging is on the menu, we had best get out of this wind."

The younger man felt the knot in his chest finally loosen. "Snogging is definitely on the menu, along with, I believe, several cups of tea, and a hot bath preferably for two."

John beamed up at him, " My genius."

" Only yours, always." He grabbed John's hand, " Fancy a walk ?"

One last time, John turned his face into the wind, letting it wash over him like an absolution, a blessing. Then turning with a grin, " Hail a taxi you wanker!"

Sherlock snapped his heels together, " Yes Captain."

Epilogue :

More than three weeks later, John had never really been able to explain what led to his communion with the November wind.

They had gone back to Baker Street that night, warming each other, loving each other. Whatever had or had not happened to them outside the Yard, both men knew that somehow the wind had changed them.

In the next days, Sherlock, naturally had to " investigate " why you should NOT lick a frozen metal pole much to John's exasperation and dismay. He could not ,however, contain his laughter as he freed Sherlock's tongue with warm water from Mrs. Hudson's kettle as she indignantly scolded John for allowing their Boy to get into such a predicament. As for Sherlock, he earned himself a smart smack to the seat of his trousers ( when Mrs. H's back was turned of course ) when he whined, "John made me!" 

One week out from Christmas, Sherlock is searching for the perfect gift for John. The December wind is equally cutting, but it carries on it's wings the smells of pine,cinnamon, gingerbread, mulled wine; and the warmth of Yule logs and candles.

John has already told him one of his gifts is a movie, and Sherlock suspects it somehow will involve licking a flagpole or some such.So, he is searching for a gift in kind. 

Drawn to a favorite shop, he is disgusted to hear the strains of "Let It Go" from Disney's Frozen blaring throughout the premises. Both he and John found it impossible to get the song out of their heads whenever they heard it.

And then, the Detective grinned a " Grinchy Grin." He would get John something that played...." His naughty list thoughts were instantly interrupted by the small tree on the counter.

Before, he sneered at the very idea of a Christmas tree, but John had such a fondness for them that Sherlock found himself having to resist buying a tree that would have been too tall for Buckingham Palace. Anything for His John.

The ornament on the shop's tree, was a heart. Not anatomically correct of course; John had helped him to understand why that might not appeal, but a romantic heart.

What struck the Detective was how unique it was. The heart had a place for two small photos to be inserted. The bottom portion of the heart appeared to be encased in ice, but the top, where the photos would go, was a gleaming enameled red. Beneath the photos and above the ice was engraved "Love Will Thaw A Frozen Heart."

A short time later, purchase in hand, Sherlock smiled at the thought of the day their frozen hearts began to thaw in the winds of November. 

Then humming to himself, blast that damn song, he flaunted his cheekbones and turned up his collar. With that, Sherlock Holmes turned towards home, John and love. Walking into the warm heart of the December wind.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope this wasn't too cringeworthy. May each of us have the love of another to warm a wind chilled heart.


End file.
